


Closer

by icarusAcending (symbioticSimplicity)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cute, Dancing, F/M, Song fic, This Is STUPID, bar au, one sided JadeDave, pinning, this is just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:50:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symbioticSimplicity/pseuds/icarusAcending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His eyes say 'closer', closer closer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was just listening to this song (Closer by The Tiny) when this popped up into my head. I don't own the song nor do I claim to, all rights go to the artist.  
> Enjoy!

 

It’s the end of the night, the bar has been rowdy tonight but somehow mostly fun. Bro only had to forcefully evict one patron who’d grabbed your ass, which was a pretty good night for you. There’s still a little bit of lingering energy from the last performance that doesn’t seem to want to let you all leave. Mostly you're cleaning up, but there's not a lot to be done so a few of you are hanging around having a night cap before you head home.

 

John is still sitting at his piano, playing it almost aimlessly, just little notes trilling through the air on up drafts of that fine and tenuous energy. He just finished a set with ‘Piano Man’, he always has trouble just stopping cold turkey when that’s his closer.

 

Rose too seems to be picking up on the mood. Her back is leaned against John’s and she’s also idly playing a melody that compliments his almost-arbitrary notes on her violin. Whatever it is they’re making together is slow and easy yet just a little haunting. God you love it when they play together, it always makes your hands itch for your own instrument. But you were bar tending tonight so your monstrous instrument is back at your apartment.

 

That leaves you with your voice. You can work with that.

 

You nod to the lazy rhythm, counting yourself in.

 

_“Now I’m thinking maybe, I was stung, I felt my feet lift off the ground.”_

 

John smiles up at you but Rose doesn’t move from her position. It sounds pretty good together, especially for a random jam session. But you’ve all been playing together since you were preteens, it’s almost second nature by now. You can feel their music deep down to your bones and the melody sweeps you up. You almost don’t notice the flourish of your wrist as you wipe down the bar.

 

_“My heart was screaming at my bones, I need you closer.”_

You’re actually dancing a little now! You can’t help it, it happens every time you sing. Your moments are influenced by the gentle rhythm of the song. Rose and John are beginning to work together something of an actual melody now, less pauses and breaks but still as languid and beautiful as before. You’re out from behind the bar, having finished with the countertop and moved on to sweeping. The broom is your helpless dance-victim now.

 

_“I met him when the sun was down, the bar was closed, we both have had no sleep. My face beneath the streetlamp, it reveals what it is lonely people seek. Closer, closer.”_

You twirl with your broom, now singing passionately as if the bristled instrument were the person who’s the source of these lyrics. The person across the room, watching you with reflective shades and a passively amused expression. You’ve had a crush on Dave for years, and it isn’t hard to see why. You know it won’t go anywhere and you’re happy enough having him as a friend. But still, the nights in this big old city sure can be lonely.

 

_“Closer, closer. And you’re close enough to lose, close to the point where you know that your mind, it cannot choose. Close enough to lose, close enough to lose your heart.”_

Your dance takes on a slight melancholy as you dip to the floor to ‘pick up a wrapper’. You’re only slightly surprised to find Dave standing in front of you when you stand back up. He’s holding out his hand but he’s not saying anything, lest words break the spell you’ve all cast with your music. You smile at him and he give you a little smile back that warms you from the inside out. You set the broom down and he’s spinning you.

 

_“Now I’m thinking maybe, I was stoned, I felt my feet lift off the ground. And my heart was screaming, at my bones. I need you closer. Closer, closer.”_

He does exactly as you sing. He lifts and spins you and it makes you dizzy. You’ve danced with Dave before, of course you have it’s part of your act! But you can’t remember the last time you danced with him because you both just felt like it. He’s holding you so close now, you can feel his breath stirring your hair. He’s moving you both perfectly to the beat of the song, the same types of easy graceful moves you’d been doing on your own. Dave’s a good dancer even if he claims the skill to be ironic.

 

_“You met me when the sun was down, and the bar was closed, we both have had no sleep. My face beneath the streetlamp, it reveals what it is lonely people seek. Closer, closer.”_

Your voice is getting breathier and more emotional the longer you sing, the longer you dance with him under the crooked spotlight you’ve been meaning to ask Equius to fix for months now. You know that he knows how you feel, he has for years. You know he doesn’t feel the same way and that’s okay with both of you. But he’s so close now you think you could be okay just to pretend a while.

 

_“As he’s in the middle of the street, and I pretend he’s mine to keep. Cars are running fast on both sides of his head.”_

Then next time he spins you he also pushes his shades up so they’re not obscuring his eyes. The lighting is dim enough that it shouldn’t hurt him but you’re so surprised you almost falter in your step. Dave _never_ just shows his eyes like that! It’s such a show of solidarity that for a moment you think you really might cry. He can see how open you’re being and is opening back to you, not seeming to care that by now everyone but John and Rose are watching you dance. He’s willing to put himself out there with you and gosh your heart hurts.

 

_“His eyes say closer, closer. Closer, closer.”_

Your voice trembles with emotion as he does in fact pull you as close as you’re capable of being. You’ve slowed from your elegant dance to a slow waltz, barely more than shuffling. You’re looking up into his bright, vivid eyes and he down into yours. You’ve always understood Dave, to some degree, but this is…this is so different. You swear you can see everything he’s feeling and it echoes back in your own chest. It isn’t love, not the kind you want, but it’s…it’s something you think you might need instead.

 

_“You’re close enough to lose, close to the point where you know that your mind, it cannot chose. Close enough to lose. Close enough to lose, your heart.”_

And just like that the music ends. The song is over and the spell is broken. You’re not really sure what happened but somehow you feel…you feel lighter. Not really okay, you think you’re probably going to go home and cry yourself to sleep, but like you might be some day.

 

You can hear the rest of the staff clapping in the background and John and Rose exchanging compliments with one another. But your attention is only for Dave. His shades still haven’t come down and his red eyes are still focused on yours. He still hasn’t said a word.

 

But then he bends down and kisses your nose, just a whisper of a thing really so soft you could have imagined it if not for the blush it inspired. He gives you a wide, genuine smile that you vow never to forget before he lowers his shades and walks back to his place beside his brother.

 

Maybe you’ll sleep alright after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prequel to Closer that happened two years prior. 
> 
> AKA I keep hearing songs that make me think of Jade so the thing continues to happen.

The song starts with piano that sounds like storm clouds slowly rolling across the sky in an old cartoon. The atmosphere is similar, all people ‘too cool’ to wear anything in a color rather than a shade.

 

_“Just across from the hospital, still inside of the red light, a couple blocks from the orthodox church, that’s where the old poet lives.”_

 

The thought of working here for years makes your skin want to move to Mexico. You hate it here on this cozy little corner, everything about it offends you. From the constant nutty smell of fresh coffee to the sweeter scents of the creams and syrups and scones. You hate scones, they’re completely stupid. But more than scones you hate the people who come here.

 

All of them look the same by a judge, and all of them are willing to pay too much for coffee. There’s not one person in the entire room who knows how to live like something other than a complete affront to taste, yourself included.

 

But then _he_ walks in.

 

_“In his eyeglasses and his neck tie, at the window looking down, on the young man passing by, on the fullness of the town.”_

 

He’s like a wound in the otherwise bland landscape of frumpy hipsters in his red button down and sterile white dress pants. There’s a matching white suit jacket tossed over his shoulder like he’s some kind of male model. With his pale blond hair, swept just a little sideways, his bold aviator shades, and his handsome features, he might well be. You wouldn’t put anything past this dashing mystery man.

 

_“Full of them good time gamblers, full of their restless wives, full of the midnight riders, out in the quarter on Friday night, out in the brightness of a Friday night.”_

You almost can’t keep your focus on making your fingers move over the keys the way they’re supposed to. He’s just so _interesting._ You’re taking your break after this song and you’re going to talk to him dang it. There’s a risk you’ll end up being the creepy girl with the lack of social skills-not an unfamiliar title though it’s been shrunk down from ‘creepy island girl with the lack of social skills’-but there’s also the chance he’ll like you for your peculiar charm.

 

You’ll take those odds.

 

_“I guess those were the olden days, I guess those were the golden years. Cause now the town is empty, empty as a mirror, empty as the harbor and the barber’s chair.”_

This part gets a little intense with the piano and you have to focus to keep both the piano and the singing a thing that’s happening. You watch your hands, moving your eyes flicker quick to your next key before playing it. Your pitch suffers for it for a moment but you fix it the next note.

_“Maybe I came to early, maybe I came too late, I’m waiting in the shadows of the scaffolds of the old cafés where you told me to wait.”_

Now that the music has calmed again, you chance looking back up. But like some sort of fevered dream or well intentioned delusion, he’s gone. You didn’t even hear the door! It was like he’d just evaporated or that you really _had_ imagined him. You’re visibly crestfallen. You really really wanted to talk to him, dang it.

 

_“And I’ve got this lingering feeling, it’s like I’ve slipped between the fingers of the century. I know you know what I mean.”_

Maybe he stepped out for a cigarette? People do that when they drink their coffee a lot. Sometimes you’re sure the reason they’re all so grey and washed out is because they’re dying just a little faster than everyone else. The phrase ‘old and grey’ always comes to mind. You hope he doesn’t smoke.

 

_“I’ll be a good time gambler, I’ll be a restless wife, I’ll be a midnight rider, out in the quarter on a Friday night. Call me a good time gambler, call me a restless wife, call me a midnight rider, out in the quarter on a Friday night.”_

You still can’t spot him and you’re not surprised. You really can’t see much of anything. You’ve gotten all passionate again, playing your molted brown piano like you’re Mozart at a full concert. Your hair is everywhere now, making for a pretty effective shade to the rest of the world. Usually you like it this way, cocooned like you’re really the only one still here. But today it only makes you feel more lonely. You hope Bec is there when you get home.

 

_“Out in the brightness of a Friday night, call me the brightness of a Friday night.”_

You finish playing the rest of the song and there’s of course the polite applause of the hipsters, so hushed you’d think they thought they were at a golf course. Ugh you fucking ha—

 

That line of peeved hissy-fitting is halted in it’s tracks by the strong sound of someone clapping like they’re not afraid of drawing attention to themselves. You want to toss your hair back and you want to find the mystery man standing there, but that would be too amazing. You might just sit here and try to convince yourself it’s one of those occasional old men who wander in, looking for a cup of joe and finding pretension instead. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

 

While you don’t turn, you do come out of your cocoon. Your hair is extra fluffy today for some reason, which you think may have been your new shampoo. At any rate it smells like green apples and that’s more than enough reason to continue using it. Your mane around you still manages to obscure anything from your view. It’s not until you feel someone next to you that you scoot off of the bench. Probably some customer wants to show off their ‘talent’. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall. Yeesh.

 

You turn around and pull your bass into your lap instead. You’ve got an electric at home, but your boss-hissy-shouty McScowl face named something as pretentious as his business, Spades Slick-insisted it suited the atmosphere of his twenties style lounge if you would play a stand up instead. So here you are, stand-up bass in lap, ready to aid the customer in whatever ill-advised song they’re going to undertake. You’re so sick of Oasis and Creed you could cry.

 

_“The color today is gray.”_

Your head snaps up so quickly you nearly hurt yourself. Not only is the voice singing absolutely freaking lovely, but he’s got a sense of humor! You can the crowd trying to figure out who it is, and your eyes fall quickly on the man in red.

 

Apparently he left to go get someone-a girlfriend probably-since there’s a girl in lavender seated beside him now. Actually you think she might be his sister, they look incredibly similar. And vaguely familiar, like someone from the cover of a two year old magazine.

 

The girl has a violin under tucked under her chin and she’s making it _sing_ for her. Her fingers run over the strings so deftly you can’t help but liken them to little spiders. Her music weaves around you and almost compels your own hand to move along with her in a slow but deliberate harmony. You shiver as the notes blend. It’s been son long since you’ve had anyone who knows what they’re doing.

 

The man in red keep the beat, drumming on his seat just loud enough to be heard. His rhythm is excellent, but different. He’s using the off-beat and tapping vaguely along to the rhythm of the violin. The rhythm should be slower, if he’s intending to follow the feeling of the music, but you find you like his interesting addition. You find you like _him._

_“The color today is gray, I see only black and white, every day’s the same. Great tall trees that have no leaves, a silhouette against the pale sky that sheds no light.”_

Wow his voice is smooth, and airy too. You wouldn’t expect it, looking at him but somehow it still fits. You think it’s probably the way his mouth moves, he’s got and way about how he frames words that makes you want to pay attention. The slightest of tilts and jerks when he sings tells you he’s feeling it too, even if he doesn’t show it like you do.

 

_“I can see a bleak horizon, will it ever change? Such an unforgiving landscape, where silence paints an image of an ever ringing bell.”_

Oh my _god._ You didn’t know someone could make a song sarcastic. Or maybe it’s ironic. The song is a dirge, definitely. The kind of music you’re sure these hipster wanna be half goth amalgamation abominations eat up like candy. But the way he’s singing it is…it’s almost mocking. His voice is still sweet and smooth but there’s still a little edge to it and _oh you like him._

_“The color today is gray.”_

You and the lavender girl take it away for a moment, your instruments weaving through each other, dancing. You find you like her too, she’s making this as possible as he is. You caught a sliver of that same lavender when she opened her eyes a second ago and you’re hooked. You’ve got to know them.

 

_“Please God let a storm come down, at least something would tell me time is passing.”_

And your attention is back to Red. He’s varied his beat again and it’s hyped up to a rabbit’s heartbeat. And there’s Lavender along with him, and _holy fucking shit they’re scratching._ One of them has to be a DJ because they remix the tune like nobody’s business. You think it might be Red because he’s got a slight lead in pace and Lavender is staring right at him, as if trying to read where he’s going. You’ve dropped off to watch, there’s no way you could follow something so clearly planned.

 

Lavender raises the stakes, chords climbing higher and higher until she’s making her violin screech out this sound straight out of a rock anthem and Red drops the beat.

 

They resume the previous pace and your fade back in, still somewhat floored by the sudden display of kick assery.

 

_“The color today is grey.”_

Lavender’s harsh notes ring out right after his voice almost like a retort. You’re amazed, throughout this entire… uh, exercise, Red’s expression has hardly changed if at all. There’s something nagging at the back of your brain about that, about a lot of things concerning this duo. You can figure it out later when you’re not too busy drooling over them.

 

_“Color me in shadows for I no longer see the rainbow, and angels cannot reach me.”_

You’re watching him real close and that’s the only reason why you don’t get stranded when they both dramatically drop the beat again. This time however they don’t pick it back up, Lavender lowering her bow as Red croons out the last line.

 

_“The color today is gray.”_

Red is smirking now as he takes a bow. Your hipster crowd applauds at a volume that would still shame a regular crowd, but it’s better than nothing you guess. Some people volunteer tips but Red and Lavender direct them to you. You hardly did anything but you’re not going to turn down money.

 

It’s about ten minutes past break time so when they exit the shop, you follow them.

 

“Hey!” You say, bouncing over to the duo, “Hi! Um, you guys are amazing!”

 

Lavender smiles at you like you’re a child doing something cute but naïve, but the look isn’t unkind. It’s just…unsettling? Almost as unsettling is the fact that Red’s expression doesn’t change at all.

 

“You’re pretty good yourself.” Red says, “Caught you on the way in. When you sound like a chorus all by yourself you know it’s time to make the mortals start building you temples and shit. Make ‘em bow down and beware your Pagan powers lest you zap their asses with a bolt of pure B minor.”

 

“What dear, metaphorically impaired brother is trying to say in his own roundabout way, is that you’re quite talented.” Lavender steps in to stop the madness.

 

You’re smiling. You’re totally smiling so hard. You can’t believe you ever were confused about who they are. There’s only one person on the planet who dresses in that much red, wears shades, remixes _and_ makes metaphors like that.

 

“Dave Strider what are you doing in my town.” You ask, near vibrating out of your boots.

 

He looks up at you then, momentarily thrown by your obvious familiarity with him. Even the girl, Rose Lalonde, looks a bit startled. You can’t give them much grief for it, you’re sure you look very different than last they knew of you.

 

Gone is the slender preteen girl with the big glasses and bigger teeth. In her place is a curvy young woman with a little bit extra to go around. You traded in your glasses for a slightly less scratched version in square rather than Harry Potter circles and though your teeth are still huge, they’re at least even now. Your island tan is almost spent, leaving you with just your own light brown skin which is significantly clearer than in your adolescence. Your hair is even more wild, a mane that goes down to your lower back and is thick and full enough to make you look like a lion. But your eyes are the same, even if done up with black liquid wings, still dark green.

 

“ _Jade_?”

 

Oh hohoho and there’s shock! You just shocked Dave Strider. That should count as some kind of ultimate achievement on the Xbox of life! Rose looks similarly so but she’s doing a slightly better job of masking it.

 

“Yup.” You say, unable to contain your excitement before launching yourself at them in a huge I-haven’t-seen-you-in-eight-years hug.

 

“Sup.” Dave is mostly back to normal, save the little smile quirking up the corner of his lips, “You’ve clearly been up to a lot.”

 

“Not that much really!” You grin, bubbling over with excitement at the idea of making conversation with people who you aren’t paid to be nice to, “But, uh, I’ve got to get back to my shift soon. I’m off in a couple hours, do you guys want to go to lunch or something?”

 

Rose fields this one, “It’s a bit late for lunch and I suspect you’d like a bit of time to freshen up after work as well. Dinner at Les Diamond at nine?”

 

You forgot how efficient Rose is! Man, that’s a skill you would have liked during the most busy week you’ve ever seen which happened to coincide perfectly with your midterms. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been a zombie for three days after.

 

“That sounds good, but Les Diamonds is kinda far.”

 

“We’ll pick you up.” Dave volunteers, having appeared a cell phone out of basically nowhere and handed it to you, “Give us your coordinates and we’ll abduct you nice and smooth. No fuss, no muss, the neighbors will never know.”

 

You laugh, that really loud one that scares your cousin’s cat. Dave sure hasn’t lost his sense of humor over the years and you can appreciate the dry wit he has.

 

“Alright,” You say as you type in the last couple letters before handing it to him, “There we go.”

 

“We look forward to tonight.” Rose smiles, leaning forward to peck you gently on either cheek.

 

“I do too!” You smile as Dave give you a half hug. Wow he smells good, like vinyl and the faintest hint of a musky aftershave. You’re not sure what it triggers in you but you don’t want to let go of him for a second.

 

But you do, Spades is calling for you and it’s never good to keep your boss waiting. You wave and they wave and you all turn around. You wonder if they’re smiling like you are at the thought of tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not sure if I want to make this into a full scale series. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> I know the lyrics aren't in order, sorry, I decided to do them as they fit the progression. All apologies if you were listening along and that threw you off.


End file.
